Video: Julia Spitz: A caucus of Clauses - Santas let their beards down

Julia Spitz

Monday

Feb 25, 2008 at 12:01 AMFeb 25, 2008 at 1:03 PM

You don't know what it's like to listen to several thousand requests, let hundreds of kids sit on your lap, have your heart broken and witness a miracle or two. ``Ever work with real reindeer? Aufff,'' Joe Lynch said with a shudder as seven other Santas shook their heads. No, Santa can't really kick back with regular folks like you and me.

You don't know what it's like to listen to several thousand requests, let hundreds of kids sit on your lap, have your heart broken and witness a miracle or two.

``Ever work with real reindeer? Aufff,'' Joe Lynch said with a shudder as seven other Santas shook their heads.

No, Santa can't really kick back with regular folks like you and me.

He needs a day in Woonsocket, R.I., with a few dozen close pals, the kind who understand the pressures of being magical 365 days a year.

Here, at the Embassy restaurant, two blocks over the Bellingham border, Santas from Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut can let their hair down.

It was the annual meeting of the group with no official name. It was a ``dinner'' meeting that began at 10 a.m.

``We try to stay away from the public,'' said Larraine Martin, who's married to Santa George Martin of North Smithfield, R.I.

Not that they don't like people. They love people. You've got to in this line.

``It's sort of a calling,'' said Jim Scott of Natick, who portrays Santa at the North Shore Mall. ``If you put the red suit on, you know right away if it fits.''

But when you've got the unmistakable beard, the white hair, and the twinkly eyes, you're expected to act a certain way in public. No cussing, no smoking, no drinking. You've got to be on your best behavior 24-7.

And even Santas need a little private time to get off riffs like the light-blue exchange between Lynch, who's from Cumberland, R.I., and Desmond Reeves of Natick.

``You've met my mom?'' Reeves asked, setting up the punch line.

``She was sitting on my lap last week,'' Lynch chortled.

Reeves let loose his non-Santa laugh, deep, long, infectious with a touch of rasp, although ``I'm pretty good with a ho-ho-ho,'' he said.

Friday wasn't about ho-ho-ho, though.

It was about trading stories and sharing secrets of the trade.

Martin, the event organizer, showed how a hand-held whistle can add the wow factor to a nose tweak. Joe Healey of Providence confided a way his brethren can guess a child's age. ``If they have a full set of teeth, they're 5.'' Healey also has a good line if he's asked where the reindeer are. ``Homeland Security made me leave them at the airport.''

``I carry coins I hand out,'' said Scott, gold for very good, purple for ``You've been good, but I think you could try a little harder.'' Reeves has candy canes and ``I met Santa'' stickers in his pockets.

They came to exchange names and numbers, in case they get sick and need a replacement at a key time.

``It's kind of hard to let children down,'' said Bob Murphy of Riverside, R.I.

And they came to admire one another's gear.

``We show off our stuff,'' said Martin, who brought a red double-breasted suit, fedora and long coat he let Reeves try on, as well as some white gloves Reeves was surprised to learn cost only about 65 cents a pair, and can be worn once and thrown away.

You need the white gloves, particularly if you're a mall Santa, so your hands are visible at all times and no one can accuse you of any funny business.

Some of the men are mall Santas, others appear at town events. Some work strictly for charity, others choose venues like nightclubs and motorcycle dealerships to buoy people's holiday spirits.

Some need a little cosmetic help getting their hair and beards up to snuff.

Ron Pynn, who lives in Bellingham, is one whose beard needs no touching up.

``I started growing it the time I had the flu,'' said Pynn. About 20 years ago, ``I was so sick I couldn't shave.

One time, at a restaurant, ``a little man, he must have been in his 80s, came over and said, `Santa, can I tell you what I want for Christmas?' I said, `Sure, what do you want?' `A new Buick,' he said.''

Reeves recalled the time a woman in a Florida airport scolded him by saying, ``I want to know what you did with my pony in 1946.''

Then there are the miracles.

``One of the little boys I visited passed away three weeks ago,'' said Martin, but he has nothing but fond memories of the visit.

``Soon as he heard my bells, he perked right up. The mother said he hadn't smiled in weeks, so it was nice, really nice.''

Lynch recalled the time he was walking down the street and a girl he could tell had some sort of disability ``ran 20 feet and grabbed me. `Santa, Santa.''' Big deal? Well, it left the girl's grandmother speechless, he said. ``She can't walk,'' is what the older woman finally said. ``She can't walk, but she can run,'' said Lynch. ``Things like that really make you think.''

Not that Lynch is a soft touch. The retired Teamster rides his motorcycle down to Florida when he can, sports his fair share of tattoos, and ``I don't do malls.''

But, like the other men, he doesn't need a red suit to make him look like Santa, and he doesn't like to do things that might break the spell.

Ask his age and he'll tell you he's 2,793 (about 66 in human years).

Like his fellow Santas, his happiest moments are those spent bringing a smile to someone else's face.

Most of the men are in their 50s and 60s. Most have other jobs, or work that keeps them busy the rest of the year.

Martin, 55, is a tool-maker, ``almost like a toymaker.'' Scott, 54, works in the dairy instrumentation field. ``After all, Santa has to know about milk,'' he said.

Pynn and Reeves are active members of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows.

Among the things they do is make ``bear chairs,'' small wooden Adirondack-style chairs for teddies.

``We give out approximately 250 to 300 a year,'' to charities such as the Salvation Army, said Reeves, who portrayed St. Nick at the Westgate Mall in Brockton after retiring from his job as an interior decorator and carpet salesman at Sears in Natick.

``If you're a Santa, you really have to have higher standards,'' said Kathy Banks of Littleton, whose husband, Dave, visits pediatric patients at MetroWest Medical Center in Framingham.